New Story
Title: Aliquis' mistake
Author: Aliquis

The author's note:
The persons and events in this story are fictitious. Any similarity to actual or historical persons or events is unintentional. Some parts of the story are paraphrased form Kirsten Smart's story Wendy. I have the explicit (written) permission of the author to use her works.

Aliquis’ mistake

The guards lead me into a dim lit room. I was brought with my hands locked in shackles behind my back, barefoot in jeans and a white shirt, a guard on each arm and two more behind. I was frightened, but I tried to hide it.

"This is my choice." I said to myself.

In the room, a woman waited. She was dressed a conservatively; a white sleeveless blouse and a fitted pinstripe skirt over knee-high stockings: nothing too sexy, although the skirt had a side-split to mid thigh. She had dark eyes and a strict look on her face.

I looked straight into her eyes.

"So, you are the young one who is willingly submitted himself to being put to the question," she asked.

"Yes, madam."

"My name is Kirsten, and I am one the leaders of the Witchseekers. I'd like you to know that just because you are a willing victim, don't think we'll go easy on you."

I swallowed, but kept my voice clear. "I understand that, madam."

"How old are you?"

"I'm eighteen, madam."

"And why have decided to come here?"

"Because of my parents."

She raised her eyebrows.

I continued. "My parents were practitioners of the Black Arts. They used unholy magic. I hate them. I despise them because their existence in itself is a blasphemy."

"Hard words, from the mouth of their child."

I turned my head down. "They were bad people. I don't want to be one of their kind. I want to prove that I am different. I don't want to be hunted my whole life."

"To prove what you say, we must put you through some horrible tortures, so that the truth will be forced from you."

I nodded. "I – I know."

"Fine. Guards, strip him!" she ordered.

The guards were not gentle; they wrenched my jeans and underwear down, and physically tore the shirt from my body. The clothes then were heaped onto a brazier, where they smouldered, and then burst into flames. There was no turning back.

I stood naked in front of the woman. She laid her dark eyes on me.

I knew what she saw:

I was 6'1", slightly tanned, and really well-built. I had been swimming since I was 10 and I spent two hours a day in the fitness center regularly. My chest and my armpits were shaved, so was my groin and legs. I was prepared for the examination. I even purged my bowels before coming to the Chateau. My hair was dark blond, my eyes hazel. I had goosebumps, and felt really vulnerable standing the middle of chilly room, examined by these emotionless people.

"Really cute body you have. You must have a lot of work with it."

"Y-yes, madam."

"Your girlfriend likes your body hairless?" she smiled at me.

"I never had a girlfriend, madam." I felt my cheeks blush red.

"Oh! So you're a virgin, eh?" she laughed, and the guards laughed with her.

I stood there totally ashamed.

"Whatever. Guards, tie his hands in front of him and lift his arms."

They did as she said.

When I raised my arms, Kirsten came closer and touched my six-packed abdomen. Then, she moved her smooth palm all over my body. She leaned closer and she looked as she were looking for something. Then she moved behind me.

"Lean forward, and grab your ankles."

After I did it, she pulled away my ass-cheeks. It was really humiliating. My anus was shaved too.

"No marks or signs. But that doesn't prove anything." she looked deeply into my eyes. "I ask you the first time: Are you a warlock? Do you have any unholy power?"

"No, madam, I do not have any of that."

"Do you know any witches or warlocks?" she started to walk around me.

"No, madam." I replied.

"And your parents, boy?"

"They died half-year ago. In a car accident."

She stopped in front of me.

"I see. So, you're stating that you have no connection by any means with witchcraft."

"As you say so, madam."

"Fine. But as you may know, I have to get an evidence of that. You have to prove that you are innocent."

I became confused. How should I prove my own innocence? It's nonsense!

"I'm afraid, I don't understand, madam." I said.

"You are considered to be an apprentice in witchcraft. Now, I have to get the Truth from you - with force, if it is necessary."

"But I told you, I am innocent. That's why I came here!"

"This could be some kind of trickery. I'm accusing you of witchcraft. If you confess it now, you can save yourself from some very bad experiences."

"B-but if I confess that you will burn me at the stake!!" my voice was filled with fear and confusion.

"Of course we will!" laughed Kirsten.

"But this is an impossible choice! You'll torture me until I confess!" I almost cried in panic.

"Not quite. Now you are able to say your pitiful lies; but when you suffer tortures that you cannot possibly imagine, you will tell me the Truth.  So, I ask it once more, do you confess that you are familiar with dark powers?"

I took a deep breath. There was no escape. I didn't want to die, my only choice was denial.

"No."

2.

"All right then. We will continue in the torture chamber. Bring him!"

The two man dragged me by my arms and took me to the torture chamber. The air was quite chilly. There were a vast collection of torture devices in the room: a rack and a wheel-rack, a stocky wooden throne, a St Andrew's cross, and tables with the most varied tools on them. There were whips, crops, pliers and clamps of all sizes. The room was lit by torches on the wall.

"Put him on the rack!" Kirsten ordered the guards.

The rack was an age-old stretching-machine. It was made of oak, probably three meters long. At the foot of the rack there were stocks to hold the feet, and at the top there was a heavy roller with a thick rope on it. At the middle of the rack, a rusty steel grate was inserted, half a meter across, with 2-inch wide holes.

One guard pushed me to the rack, then grabbed me under my arms, and simply laid me on the rough wooden bed. Another caught my feet and quickly closed them into the stock, meanwhile the first attached the ropes around my wrists. After barely a half minute I lay on the rack, stark naked, with slightly stretched arms. My heart was fluttering as I started to realize what kind of trouble I had got myself into.

Despite the cold in the torture chamber, I began to sweat. I raised my head a bit: my chest was lifted, and I could saw my ribs under my muscles. My nipples were erect because of the cold. I tested the tightness of my ropes - they were like steel, I could move slightly side to side, and lift my body slightly, but I knew that when they started to turn the roller, I wouldn't be able to move anywhere.

"Let's start!" said Kirsten, and the guard turned the handle of the roller. Clicking sounds came from the roller - one, two, three and four - as the gear turned. The ropes started to shorten, my body lengthened. My arms and legs lifted slightly from the surface of the rack. The ropes bit into my wrists, the stocks into my ankles. The feeling was similar to a long, morning stretch, but it slowly became uncomfortable. I knew it would get soon much worse.

The guard waited for a half minute, then turned the handle again.

The bite of the ropes became painful. My ribcage lifted and my back arched. The pain slowly began to spread in my muscles. I clenched my teeth, my body began to sweat. At this point I could see my own ribs clearly in my chest.

Another turn.

The pain stabbed into my shoulders. My back taut and I felt a deepening pain in my abdomen. Only my buttocks were in touch with the rack at this point, putting almost all of my whole body-weight on my overstrung limbs.

The guard waited. In the torture chamber only the fluttering sound of the torches - and my heavy breaths - could be heard. Kirsten looked down on me with an insensitive face.

The roller turned.

The moan broke forth from me quietly and slowly. I was struggling to overcome the constantly-growing pain. My muscles and tendons were taut as steel cables. I grabbed the ropes with my hands as I tried to resist with all of the strength of my body. But it was futile. Even my young and well-built body wasn't a match for the rack. The ropes creaked, but that was all. I began to panic. And the interrogation had barely started!

"Confess that you made a pact with the Devil!" Kirsten demanded. Her voice cut like a knife into the silence of the torture chamber.

"No! I did not!" I said, frightened. "It's not true!"

Kirsten only nodded to the guard. The man turned the handle firmly - twice.

My spine popped. The sparks of pain came alive in my hips, I felt liquid fire in my arms. My belly was hollowing and as an unconscious reflex of the stretching I tried to raise my chest to avoid somehow the pain but it was useless. The shout burst out from me more loudly, but didn't last long because sharp pain stabbed into my ribcage  My voice was full of despair. My eyes got wet.

"What kind of trouble have I got myself into!" I thought hysterically.

"Oooh" I moaned. "It hurts..."

"I know it hurts. But we only do this for your own sake," replied Kirsten quietly.  But there was no sign of compassion in her voice. "The Truth has to be revealed at all cost!" She stepped closer to my head and began to caress my taut chest muscles.

"But what I said is the truth!"

"You know, when the agonizing pain wipes everything out from your mendacious mind, there will be no other but the Truth." She stepped away from me. "Now, tell me, and tell the Truth, have you negotiated with Devil or its servants? Do you have any unnatural or unholy power?"

"NO! I don't have any!" I shouted.

"Another notch!"

"No, please, noo!" I cried, but the wheel turned and pain like a never-vanishing tide filled my body. Because of some inexplicable reason I tried to lift my chest higher and higher in order to get rid of the excruciating pain. I barely could catch a breath, my tears shrouded my sight.

Kirsten waited until my body got used to the tension then asked again: "Do you have any magickal power? Have you made pacts with the Devil?"

"No, oh my God, no!!! I can't bear more pain, please, it hurts so much, please stop..." I sobbed.

"Another turn!"

"Nooo!" Every bit of my desperation was in the wail that exploded from me. The pain overwhelmed everything. After a few seconds, my I lost my breath. Only a whimpering sound came. The world started to fade.

But after a while, my body slowly acclimatized and I could breathe - and beg - again.  "In the name of Christ I beg to you, don't do this to me, oh my God it hurts..."

"The faith won't ease your pain. Only the confession of your sins!" Kirsten shouted at me.

"I am innocent, please, believe it, you have to believe it!" I cried.

Kirsten looked at Austin. "Let's give the boy some time to think. Don't go anywhere!" she smiled at me.

"No, you can't leave me just here! No, please!"

But Kirsten and the two men had left.

I have no idea how much time passed. While I was left alone in the chamber, I discovered new dimensions of pain. I was in frenzy of despair. My body was trembling as I tried to somehow ease the horrible tension in my muscles and tendons. But the rack held me firmly. I knew that it was completely pointless to scream, I would only cause more pain to myself.

So I waited, and suffered like hell.

After an eternity the heavy iron door creaked, and my torturers came back.

"Well, my dear volunteer friend, have you made up your mind?" Kirsten asked scornfully.

"I said all I know to you. Whether you believe or..."

"Not," finished Kirsten. "It’s fine. We will continue your interrogation."

She turned to the silent guard: "Steve, bring the brazier, please!"

The sturdy man put on a pair of thick leather gloves then walked to a corner of the chamber. When he came back, he was carrying a big iron brazier full of red-hot coals. Several wooden-handled pokers were thrust among the coals. I could feel the heat coming from the brazier when he put it down next to the rack. The air was shimmering over the brazier, and my fear turned into panic. I couldn't turn my eyes from the dreadful sight. The elemental fear of the fire grabbed my bowels.

"Put it under him!" ordered Kirsten.

Steve pushed the brazier under the rack, precisely below the grate. I immediately felt the heat coming from beneath on my sweaty, bare ass instead of the cold air of the room.

Steve attached a big set of bellows to the side of the brazier. Already I could feel the heat of the coals clearly beneath me; it didn't burn, but I knew that would change soon.

I didn't have to wait too long. After a few seconds I felt the perspiration begin to run hot on my ass. I tried to lift myself higher from the grate, but it was impossible. I started to whimper again as I tried to fight against the growing pain.

"Save yourself from this pain, and confess!" Kirsten leaned closer to my face.

"I must not say that! It is not true! Not true! I'm not the servant of the Devil! Please, believe me!"

"Even if I did, my child, I have to get proof." Kirsten turned towards Steve, "But I do not believe."

The man pumped the handles of the bellows. The fresh air gave new life to the coals, and the effect was instantaneous, as if was put on a hot stove. I yowled like an animal as the ruthless heat of the fire seared my exposed ass. I was nearly dancing on the rack, even if this seemed impossible a few minutes ago. The drops of perspiration hissed under the rack. My body was taut like a bow, every muscle trying to keep me up at all costs.

Steve pressed the bellows continually.

"Aaaaa, nooo, aaaaieeeeee!!!" I wasn't able to control myself.

Then he suddenly stopped.

I flopped down to the rack, but raised myself again at once, shouting. The grate was burning hot. I was arching my body frantically to keep my ass above the rack. Eventually, I managed to find a point where I could keep myself high enough to not touch the grate. There were only a few millimeters between me and the hot steel. My muscles were stretched to breaking point, and I knew I couldn't hold this position for long. My whole body was trembling because of the inhuman pose.

I cried as I was trying to save myself: "Oh, Jesus, my ass, oh God, it burns, it burns me! Please stop! Let me go, please!"

"It shouldn't be this way. Tell it. The Truth will deliver you," said my torturer.

I closed my eyes, and denied wordlessly.

"So be it! Steve, more heat!"

The bellows started to breath again, and the embers flared. I cried and howled endlessly as the crimson tongues of the coals scorched my ass red. My body was covered with sweat, my face with tears, snot and saliva. My ass was on fire. The pain was unbearable.

"AAAAAAAAA, STOOOOOP, IT BUUURNS, PLEASE, OH GOD, I CAN'T STAND IT, MERCYYYY!!!"

"CONFESS! Confess and I will stop it right now!" her voice was almost pleading.

Then it happened. I couldn't hold myself anymore. I flopped again. It was a thundering mistake. Although the steel wasn't red hot, I was being fried on it. My bare ass hissed, but its sound was drowned by my wail. I hitched myself up immediately, but with this move I strained my overtaut muscles and would have fallen back - but Kirsten grabbed my cock and held me up by it. Her grip was surprisingly strong. I dreaded the moment when she would release me.

"Tell me the Truth, and I will finish this torture! Confess for God's sake!" she shouted the last sentence.

"No! NO!" I screamed hysterically. 

Kirsten released me. But by that time I regain some strength to held my ass up.

"Oh! So you're in such a good shape!" Kirsten raised her eyebrows. "Austin, two more notches, if I might ask."

The roller moved. Click, click.

I screamed like a madman, my body stretched, my bones made popping sounds and finally my ass touched the grate. The fire burned my ass. My body went up and down like a leaf spring but I couldn't keep my body up for second.

"Confess, you stubborn fool! Confess!!!"

I was not able to speak jut scream inarticulately.

The world started to fade. At the edge of my consciousness, I felt the someone slid a wooden pallet above the grate. Then the darkness ate up everything.

3.

Distant sounds. The voice of a man and a woman.

"I don't know, Zell, I really don't know. This boy came here by its own will. Perhaps we'd never have caught him, if he didn’t want to be caught." said the woman.

"And this excludes the fact the he might be one of them?" replied the man in a quiet, hoarse voice.

"No. But he denied it all the time - that's a fact."

"They all do the same, Kirsten. You know this as well as I do. And the stakes are high. The Truth must be revealed! I truly want to believe that the kid is innocent. But we have to make sure, don’t we?"

"Yes, I think you're right, Zell."

"Then, with your approval, I’ll take over. But I'd like you to stay."

"As you wish."

"Austin, wake the boy up!" ordered the man.

Ice-cold water splashed on me and I suddenly became totally wide awake. The water cut my heated body as a rusty blade.

I was still lying on the rack, taut, but in a nearly bearable measure. My ass was hurting badly.

A man stood next to me. Thin lips, ice cold blue eyes.

"My name is Zell: I am the chief inquisitor of the chateau. I know why are you here. I also know that you came here by your own decision. For that, I want you to know I utterly respect you. But this won't keep me away from my duty: to reveal the Truth about you.”

He paused for a minute and studied my face. "I'm really sorry that we have to cause you pain, but - as you already know - according to our faith, the pain, and only the pain, can reveal the Truth. Therefore I ask: Have you ever made a pact with the Prince of Darkness? Do you possess any unholy power?

I answered in a wobbly voice: "I can only repeat what I've said."

"In that case, I have no other choice but to continue your interrogation."

Zell turned to Steve. "Draw back his penis!"

I whined loudly when I heard the order.

"W-what are you going to do?" I was close to tears again and I awkwardly tried to move myself away to protect my groin but it was useless.

Steve grabbed my sweaty cock into his calloused hands and drew it to my navel. I felt that the fear would drive me crazy.

Zell took my exposed ball-sack between his thumb and first finger, and with a few quick moves he looped a string around my scrotum. Then he took out a metal device from his robe. Basically two, slightly bent metal plates connected by a wing-nut. He showed it to me, while explaining its function.

"This is a ball crusher" started Zell. "As you can see, the plates can be moved closer together or farther apart by turning the nut."

I gazed at the dreadful device.

"Now, I will attach this - oh beg your pardon" he took out another one from his pocket "these - to your testicles." And so he did. I felt the cruel-cold touch, and the heaviness of the iron on my tender skin. The fear lurked in my bowels.

"Don't do it, for God's sake, please!" I cried despairingly. Zell removed the string from my ball sack, Steve released my penis too.

"I promise that I will try not to ruin your manhood completely, but after all this depends on you. I will start with your left testicle. I honestly hoped that this wouldn’t have to be done, but I do not have a choice." He turned the wing-nut. The cups eased more tightly to my delicate flesh. Then after my whimper he slowed down.

Long time ago, in my childhood, a ball was kicked into my groin with a ball. It hurt like hell. But this was an entirely different feeling. It was slower and insidious. It became stronger and deeper with every heartbeat.

Zell stopped. My ball was in pain, but I could stand it without shouting.

Fear is a most talented torturer. I saw that the two assistants turned away. Kirsten studied my face inquiringly. Zell looked deeply into my eyes.  Then he turned back to my groin. He put his hand on the wingnut. But he didn't move. My testicle was throbbing. Only my heavy breathing broke the silence.

Then, the torture master made a quick movement.

I gave out a harsh howl as the pain hit me. "Oh, goood!" I couldn't even catch a breath. The pain starting from my ball crawled up into my guts. I was twitching and jerking on the rack.

"Confess!" he uttered.

I shook my head frantically.

He turned the nut again. The plates mercilessly moved closer to each other; there was no escape from their grip. I could feel my ball flattening. I screamed like a little girl, my screams loudly proving the victory of steel over flesh. I tried anything to throw that infernal device off. I moved my hips if I was having sex. It was a ridiculous effort. My body was wet.

"Pleeeease, take it oooff! Have mercy, pleehheeheeasee!" I cried and howled. I wailed as long as my breath lasted: then, only some kind of agonized whimper came out. I couldn't even think or  beg.

"Look at his cock! It’s getting hard!" I heard Kirsten's voice. "Interesting, isn't it?"

"Indeed. I read something about this in the Witchhammer of Nuremburg. It says that the Devil sometimes beds himself in the testicles of young boys and steals the manpower from them in order to inseminate his own succubi.

"So I've heard. Do you that maybe he is..."

"I don't think anything. I'm looking for the Truth." cut in Zell. He reached for the wing-nut again.

"Oh, for the love of Jesus Christ, noo! I'll do anything, just take it off! Please, I beg you, don't do iit!!!"

"Then confess!" yelled Zell. "Confess and I'll end this torture at once!"

I didn't know what to do or say. Perhaps I remained silent far to long, because Zell, with a quick move, turned the nut again.

I can't describe the voice that came from my throat. I screamed and screamed in endless agony. I think I vomited up something, although my stomach was empty. My whole body was trembling and shaking. I felt like my testicle was going to burst out from its sack. But that wasn't what blew out: suddenly, an enormous amount of sperm spouted out from my cock spasmodically. The crusher literally squeezed the sperm out of my ball.

Although some luscious sounds could be heard in my shriek, the pain didn't ease.

"Apage Satanas!" shouted the man and crossed himself. "You see? It is the mark of the Devil! I knew it!"

I cried desperately and silently. The pain prevented me from more.

Zell took a deep breath and grabbed the crusher again. He had started to screw it when I shouted: "Waaait! I confess! I confess it! Just stop it!"

"At last!" exclaimed Kirsten.

"Say it," said Zell, "and I take it off."

I took all my strength and started to sputter. "Sometimes, at night, voices talk to me. Laughter, erotic moans...I can even smell sulphurous smell. By then I have to..."

"Have to what?!" urged Zell.

"Have to masturbate. Not only once, but at all night...and those voices...they laugh at me ...oh God...take it off, pleaseee" my voice gasped because of the throbbing pain in my groin.

Zell and Kirsten looked at each other. Zell said, "I'll make the report for the Headquarters. Until then, release him from the rack and take him into a cell. Make sure that a doctor sees him. Perhaps we will have to continue the interrogation."

He left the chamber.

I was barely aware of what happened next. Somebody took the crusher off, then I must have fainted, because I came around in a small, wet cell, lying on a rugged pallet naked and shivering.  Although my joints ached a lot, it was nothing compared the unceasing pain in my testicle. I was lying in fetal posture. My last awareness was a woman doctor who shot an injection into my groin.

3. 

I had no idea how much time had passed, as there weren’t any windows in my cell. My captors gave me some nearly-edible food and water, but nothing else. The doctor examined me a couple of times, but didn’t answer any of my questions.

When the rusty door opened, Kirsten entered with two guards behind her. Fear bit into my bowels immediately. I scrambled to the farthest corner of the cell.

"Take him!" said ordered.

"Hey, what are you going to do with me?!" I shouted.

"Shut your filthy mouth up or I’ll rip your tongue out!" she uttered.

I didn’t dare to make even a whimper.

The guards dragged me out and literally dragged me through some torch-lit corridors, until we arrived in a chamber.  Several armchairs on a podium faced an object covered by a sheet. A number of stylishly-dressed people sat in the armchairs, drinking wine and chatting with each other.

The guards stood me next to the sheet-draped object.

"Ladies and gentlemen, honorable guests, Your Excellence! May I have your attention?" said Kirsten.

All eyes turned to us. The men looked stern, but some younger ladies smiled and giggled at my nakedness. In the first row sat an elderly man, wearing some kind of clerical dress. He also looked at me very strictly.

"I’m proud to be here and lead this interrogation in your honorable company. Some of you have already seen my invention at work, but for most of you it is the first chance to see this delightful device of persuasion." The crowd clapped and Kirsten continued. "I proudly present the Smart Chair to you!" she pulled off the sheet and unveiled the dreadful device.

The chair was made of iron. The focal point of this 'chair' was a blunt, vertical spike. Also iron, fifteen inches tall and five inches diameter at its base. A toothed iron rail formed the 'back' of the chair, mounted on which was a narrow carriage, fitted with manacles for wrists and elbows and a leather strap for the torso, with a hand-crank so the torturer may raise or lower it a fraction of an inch at a time.

"As you can see, this magnificent device is basically an impaling machine," explained Kirsten.

Impaling. The most dreaded word of my life. When I was a schoolboy I read a book about medieval executions. I always thought that impaling was the worst of all. And now I gazed at the dire spike in total terror.

"My assistants will now secure the boy to the chair."

Steve and Austin stepped forward, grabbed my arms, and pushed me in front of the chair, facing the crowd. As I realized what would come next, I tried to got free and started to beg harrowingly.

"Please, for all the saints, nooo..." I couldn't finish because Steve punched my stomach. I doubled over and gasped for breath, but during this time the men forced me to straddle the chair. The deadly spike stood between my spread legs, its tip barely two inches below my anus. I gave a long cry of dread when my arms were pulled behind me, forced into the manacles of the raised carriage at the back of the chair. My elbows, first, were squeezed cruelly together behind me, barely four inches apart and restricting my ability to struggle. The strain was evident in the tension of my hardy pectoral muscles, the definition of my triceps; but more distracting in the way my ribcage and chest was thrust up-and-out. My wrists were snapped into the lower two manacles, pressing my spine against the adjustable carriage.

Then, a leather strap, also anchored on the carriage, was passed around my lower ribcage - securing my torso as Austin pulled it tight. My feet were forced into the ankle manacles, low on either side of the chair's base, spreading my thighs. It took me off balance, putting most of my weight on my arms. I was in a frantic panic. I tried to struggle, but it was completely useless.

I crouched there stark naked, in front of a bunch of strangers, straddling the chair, the spike poised below my ass. My chest was heaving with fearful breaths, my nipples standing in defiance of the chill air, while a cold sweat crept over my exposed body.

Steve gave the bindings a final check, then signaled the all clear, and the guards stepped back.

"Now, honorable guests, let me explain the mechanism of my invention." Kirsten walked behind me." At this point, the spike is pointing to the boy's ass. When I turn this handle, the carriage will push his arms lower, forcing him to crouch until the spike reaches his anus. After a few notches, the spike will intrude into the rectum, and later into the sigmoid colon, causing an unbearable pain. Moreover the anus will be forced wider and wider which is also extremely painful." The crowd hummed admiringly. Kirsten smiled.

"Before I start the questioning, I'd like to delineate other features of the Chair." Kirsten stepped to me. "There is a chute beneath the 'seat' of the chair leading to an insulated firebox, and an adjustable series of vents in the seat itself, to channel hot air. If the subject is too reluctant we will fill the box with hot coals to prod him to confession."

The people looked at me curiously, the ladies drew their coats tighter and started to whisper.

"Your Excellence!" Kirsten addressed the cleric. "You examined Zell's and my report of the previous interrogation, and you concluded that this boy is in connection with the Black Arts."

The cleric nodded sagely. "Do you have anything to say before we start?”

“My dear child, look inside your very soul and confess your sins now. Save yourself from the torture. Confession will liberate you!" his eyes glowed with fanaticism.

"I have nothing else to say!" I sobbed. "You want me to burn but God will give me strength to endure and prove my innocence!"

The cleric nodded. "All right then, torturer, do your duty."

At that moment, I made a promise to myself. I would hold on, whatever it took. I would not give in to this wicked woman! I clenched my teeth, held my breath and waited.

After a few seconds, Kirsten turned the handle. The carriage descended a quarter-inch. My ass moved closer to the tip of the spike. I struggled to raise myself, but the manacles held me tight.

After the next turn, the end of the spike touched the inner part of my ass-cheeks. I squeaked a bit, then restrained myself, surprised by the cold touch of the iron.

"Austin, take the handle, please." said Kirsten and crouched down behind me and grabbed my hips with her firm hands.

"Turn it!" she ordered. As the carriage moved again, Kirsten directed my hips until the tip of the spike reached my asshole.

Another turn, and the malicious iron penetrated my anus by a quarter inch.

I made a short shrill cry, and the crowd hummed louder, the ladies rose from their seats to have a better view.

The iron didn't hurt me, yet my rectal muscles involuntarily tried to push it out. After a few moments, my muscles started to spasm due to the useless efforts. I closed my eyes and tried to endure as long as could without screaming.

Kirsten now gave several turns of the handle, and I sank a whole inch down onto the spike. I felt clearly that the iron was spreading my sphincter wider and probing deeper inside me. I made a long, loud moan.

Surprisingly, the crowd began to laugh.

I opened my eyes and saw that the ladies were chuckling and the men were smiling. Some of the younger girls were pointing at my groin. The cleric crossed himself.

I looked down and saw that my penis was hard like a rock. I was totally ashamed. It was more humiliating that anything in my whole life.

"Look, what have we here!" laughed Kirsten.

The tension in my rectum was really painful, but I forgot it for a moment as I saw my throbbing cock: the spike pressed my prostate, causing my erection.

"I'm sure it’s at least as good as the Devil's cock!" mocked Kirsten. "Tell us, you filthy boy, have you fornicated with the Devil?"

She didn't even wait  for my reply, just turned the handle again. The spike pushed itself deeper into my anus by another half inch. Tension immediately turned into a sharp pain as my internal muscles flexed and spasmed around the intrusion in a reflexive action, but I couldn't eject it. My cock slowly became reddish, the veins could be seen clearly on its shaft.  I gave another moan. My voice was filled with anguish and…with pleasure.

Then the worst followed. Another turn - at this point my sphincter was spread by an inch and two inches inside - a thick spurt of semen shot out from my cock. It was an unimaginable pleasure but harsh pain followed.

The girls were laughing but the old cleric shouted to them:

"Silence! Order!"

Tears streamed down on my face because of the awful humiliation. I closed my eyes and tried not to listen to the scornful crowd.

Minutes passed and I became rested a little. When I opened my eyes I saw that my cock had become limp and a few drops of sperm dripping from it.

Kirsten bent towards me. "Say that you are a warlock."

I shook my head. "If I say that you'll burn me!"

"You can bet on that. But I will let you up from the Chair. Do you think that you can endure this?" she smiled evilly. "No, my dear child. This is only the beginning. You are going to experience such pain that you've never dreamed of."

The people watched, enthralled at my pain, entertained and aroused by my suffering. To make her point, Kirsten turned the handle one, two, three times.

Only a tiny inch. The unforgiving iron probed in me further on. I gave the first shout of pain. From that moment I forgot my audience, and the humiliation. I only tried to hold on as long as I could, feeling that the iron would break my resistance soon. I couldn’t imagine that a human being could possibly survive this. All my muscles were straining, the sweat shone on my body.

Another minute passed. Then I heard the clicking noise. Four times. The carriage descended, forcing me down. The ever-widening circumference of the spike slid into my rectum, stretching my sphincter, and the pain was growing incrementally.

I was breathing loudly and heavily. Fat droplets of sweat flowed down from my face. I struggled with clenched teeth, but gave no sound other than a faint groan.

I heard that Kirsten reaches for the handle again. I braced myself. But then a high voice asked:

"Please, Mistress Kirsten, may I ask a question?" A young girl, barely eighteen, dressed very extravagantly.

"But of course, my dear! Please!"

"Why not just crank him all the way down, right now?" asked the young blonde, with a mischievous tone in her voice.

"Too fast, and he'll tear," she replied, and found the next notch. My body was shoved down onto the spike, I barked in pain, my head rolling. "It has to be done slowly, so his body has time to accommodate it. Moreover, if he doesn’t confess, he must be allowed to go free without life-threatening injuries " Click.

"Oh, Goood!" I moaned. The first real strain on my resistance.

"Confess now!" urged Kirsten.

"No, no, noo!"

Click, click; the hard iron drove another half inch into my asshole, and this time I gave a cry of pain. My internal muscles were cramping and spasming urgently, and the chair was beginning to deliver its potential. The veins on my neck stood out in my efforts to endure; I was breathing like I was running.

Click.

"Please, stoop!"

Click.

"Please!!!" I called out. My anus had been spread nearly two inches, and it hurt. Tears began to spill from my eyes.

"Be careful, dear guests! This is a critical stage. We mustn't let compassion influence us. Pain in the extreme is the only way to cut through the lies a witch or warlock tells to save his flesh; and this young one is not even close to suffering the way he eventually must. I give his body time to adjust to the latest intrusion of the spike. We have to wait a bit. Please, have another drink, meanwhile!"

While the waiters served the wine, the pain in my rectum became worse. All my muscles were in a cramp. I heard people remarking that the chair appeared to be working. Some of the women were delighted by my nakedness.

The young lady who asked Kirsten a question said: "He definitely has a gorgeous body. It's a real shame to waste it."

Kirsten laughed and said: "Don't be afraid, my dear, he is a tough one. If the Chair won't break him, other devices will."

"Oh, I'm sure you have many ways to make a heretic talk."

"Are you interested? Perhaps we should talk later about this."

"That would be great, Mistress Kirsten!" replied the girl.

Nearly 5 minutes passed, and Kirsten came back tom me. She stood beside me, and with gentle fingers, stroked my wet hair and shoulders, collecting some droplets of sweat from my tanned skin.

"Okay, do you want to confess?"

I remained silent.

"I thought so," she said, and turned the handle. Two notches. I moved lower on the iron spike. The tip probed deep inside my bowels while its circumference forced my anus wider. I wailed with renewed pain and humiliation. Five inches of the spike was in me. My anus was spread by two and a half inches.

"Oh, God! Stop, please, stop!"

But she didn't stop. Relatively fast, she administered several notches. I cried, wailed, shouted - but did not confess.

Then she waited a few minutes.

By now, the chamber was in silence. Only my heavy breathing could be heard. The mirth and entertained smiles of earlier had gone from my audience, now. They knew that this had entered the realms of true torture. Most of them stared at me, impressed. I could hear the young lady whispering to her hand-maiden. "He suffers magnificently! I must have him!

As the next notch pushed me further down the spike, I gave a contralto scream of pain, my head back, and my mouth wide.

I was only halfway.

Click, click; as I was impaled further, the pain grew and spread.

"No! No, I can't take it!" I  howled.

Over the next twenty minutes Kirsten impaled me further down.

Reaching two-thirds of the spike, my ruthless torturer stopped. I barely had strength to beg or cry.

"Now. Confess." Her voice seemed so faint and distant.

She reached for the handle again.

"Pleeease, stooooop!" I whined.

"Confess" she urged. "Confess, and it will end!"

"You will burn me at the stake! I can't confess! Please stop torturing me! I'm not a warlock! I don't have any unholy poweeer!"

"Then, suffer!" shouted Kirsten into my face. She gave me three harsh turns, and I felt the spike impale me with reviving strength. I shrieked in my agony.

"No, pleeeease, it’s killing meee!" I cried hysterically.

"Confess, and I will stop it at once."

"Okay! I confess whatever you want!"

"No, my child. I don't want to put words into your mouth. You have to say the Truth!"

I closed my eyes. The spike stretched my bowels with a never-easing force. I couldn't bear another turn. Kirsten Smart's Chair had broken me.

I opened my mouth to say something, when I heard the old cleric's voice. His voice was somehow strange. "Wait, torturer."

I looked up and saw that the inquisitive young lady standing next to him and whispering into his ear. The cleric looked confused.

"What?" asked Kirsten angrily.

The cleric looked up to the girl next to him then turned to my torturer.

"I postpone the interrogation!"

"You can't do that! He will break any moment!"

"I will postpone it. And you will obey!!!" the cleric raised his voice.

Kirsten took a deep breath then asked: "May I ask Your Excellence why?"

"As you know, we have to make sure that the boy doesn’t have any life-threatening injuries. I think if you probe that spike more into him, he will be so damaged that he might die."

Kirsten tried to cut in, but the cleric silenced her with his hand and continued: "I order you to release him from the Chateau and bring him - as soon as he will be able to travel - to my residence for further interrogation."

I don't remember exactly what happened next. Perhaps I lost consciousness.

I came around in the dungeon cell. I had been convalescing for a few weeks when a guard came, and said that I would be taken to another prison. 

Chapter 2

For those unfamiliar with this device, let us explain the beauty of this sadistic creature. The humbler is a hand made S&M device that secures around the wearer's ball sack and locks it in place with its built-in security mechanism. A key is required for opening and locking the device, giving the administrator exclusive control. The wings of the humbler secure under the butt for an important purpose. If the wearer tries to stand while in the Humbler, intense pressure will be felt as the ball sack starts to pull further from the body. Thus, this cruel device keeps them crawling on all fours. The wearer can not get to their feet. In addition to the unique locking feature this humbler has 2 electrical leads that can be connected to an electrosex unit giving them a sensational experience. E-stim leads are banana style and work with Folsom or Erostek products. Our item AE100 will convert pin style leads to fit into the connectors.